Stavanger Bay down by the bay

Doe's ears flickered uneasily as she entered the den. She'd lost three children, now, to various evils, and part of her felt as though it was simply waiting for the next one to be taken away. Not him, she'd thought at the shrillness of his call, and when she'd reached him, she wasted no time. Her paws fell to either side of him, forming a possessive cage, and her muzzle poked briefly into his side to take stock of his health before popping back up to bear teeth at any dangers that might try to befall him.

But the den was empty of danger, at least as far as Doe was concerned. After a few seconds ticked by, she allowed her rigid stance to falter. Bat-like ears twisted in every direction, the only sign that she was still watchful as she descended on her son once more, mercilessly tickling the child for frightening her like that.